


Colours

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dominance, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Sex Toys, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel serves his crew the best he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. James

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsonicscrewdriver](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tsonicscrewdriver).
  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Colours - German](https://archiveofourown.org/works/888202) by [BigLeoSis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigLeoSis/pseuds/BigLeoSis)



> A/N: A fill for the [Star Trek ID Kink Meme](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/2836.html?thread=1015316#t1015316). 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It started with Jim, of course, as all things do. Jim and his ‘love everyone all the time’ motto, and his big bright smile, and his insistence that Pavel call him _Jim_ , instead of Captain or Kirk. Pavel still says, “Keptain,” when they’re on the bridge, but then Jim will give him that little look like it’s _Jim_ time.

Pavel looks forward to those moments more than he should, he knows. He’s tired all the time, but that’s only about twenty percent Jim’s fault, counting all the other parties. Sixteen percent, if Pavel counts his own. And he’s probably more at fault than any of them; he never says _no_.

He says yesyesyes in his head and, “Is it my break?” out loud. Jim nods towards the turbolift.

“Don’t go too far, in case we need you.” He gets a few odd looks; they can go where they like. But Spock says nothing and Hikaru only smirks; they’re in the loop. Pavel gets the meaning. He stands up and walks to the turbolift, restraining the urge to skip, stands inside and waits there.

The turbolift makes a little, insistent beeping noise, like it wants to take him somewhere, but Pavel chirps, “Nyet,” to the walls. His captain needs him—needs him for release and some soothing and the general power trip of making an ensign bow—and Pavel’s going to provide everything and more.

The turbolift opens a minute later, and Jim comes in and pulls off the wall panel, punching something in. The turbolift jerks to half a floor below, caught, and Jim calls, “Computer to bridge.”

Jim doesn’t wait for Spock to answer. He just says, “Turbolift’s jammed—no worries, give me a minute and I’ll fix it.”

Spock asks only, “You have your personal communicator, Captain?”

“Yes; I’ll call you if we lose power.”

The computer beeps: transmission over. Jim turns to Pavel with a filthy, lecherous grin and Pavel could melt. He doesn’t open his arms like he wants to, because Jim hasn’t told him to. He waits, ready and eager, with his arms at his sides and his lower lip in his teeth, working nervously and trying to be endearing. Jim saunters over to him: a big sexy ball of _captain_.

“You’re so cute,” Jim croons, leaning and hooking a finger under Pavel’s chin. “Wiggling your ass in your chair like that, arching your back like you do in bed, running your fingers through your curls... are you trying to make me come in the captain’s chair?”

 _Yes._ “Sorry, sorry, Keptain.” He tries to look sheepish and sorry. Jim’s smirking, and he gets closer—so close. One leg is between Pavel’s, foot kicking his apart, thigh right beneath his crotch. Pavel sucks in a breath. He wants to touch.

Jim kisses him softly, right on the lips, close-mouthed and deceptively sweet. His eyes are so blue up close: the skies from back home.

He growls, “Turn around, you naughty thing.” Pavel knits his eyebrows together and blushes, like he’s anything less than turned on.

It’s hard to turn with their legs intertwined, but Pavel’s good, and he manages. He puts his hands flat on the wall, spine curved, ass pressing back into Jim’s crotch, closer and harder. Jim groans, never one to stifle it. He runs his hands down Pavel’s sides, squeezing and purring, “Good boy, just like that... all lithe and perfect for your master...”

“You are going to punish me, aren’t you, Keptain?” Pavel looks over his shoulder with big, hurt eyes, rubbing his ass over the outline of Jim’s full cock. “Fill me up too much?”

“I’d say it wasn’t a punishment,” Jim laughs, “Because we both know you love it. Bet that’s all you think about, isn’t it? Sitting in that chair at my feet, wanting my monster cock inside you. But then, you’re so small and tight and I’m so huge that it must feel like you’re going to split in two; that’s your punishment...”

“Split me in two,” Pavel whines. “I need to be _punished_.” He can feel all the familiar ridges through the back of his pants, and they’re too tight around the front. He wriggles on it and _moans_ , until Jim breaks and pets him, scratching up his back and grabbing his hair. Jim pulls Pavel’s head back, earning a gasp. A hand swipes across his ass, both cheeks at once, and he yelps. Jim spanks him again, then starts to pull down his pants, just enough to hook underneath the round globes of his ass, digging across his thighs. He presents himself as best he can.

It’s quick like this, mostly—Jim’s energetic and impatient; he wants sexrightnow and all over the place, and he doesn’t wait for proper times; he’s the captain and he strolls off when he wants. Pavel keeps himself ready, just in case. (Or for the others.) Jim unzips his pants with one hand and kneads Pavel’s left cheek with the other, until it’s all pinched and rosy. Pavel tries to crane back to see Jim’s cock, but the angle isn’t very good.

He’s got it memorized, anyway. The way it looks, the way it tastes, the way it feels down his throat, brushing his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He even likes the way it smells, and he makes a desperate, keening noise when it presses at his hole. Jim chuckles, “Think you can handle this, Chekov?”

Pavel pants, “I liwe to serwe.”

He _does_.

He’s wet and ready and aching, and he tries to press himself back into that monster head. It’s so very big, but they all are—lucky little Pavel. Jim knows just what to do with it. He runs two fingers over Pavel’s brim, massaging the puckered muscles and prying them open. Then he slips inside, not slow but still torturous. Even stretched and slicked, it burns, and Pavel opens his mouth and gasps.

Jim puts a hand under him, steadying his chest, telling him, “Shh,” and, “Yeah, baby, take it...”

Then he’s at it, right away, rocking in and out. He holds Pavel’s body and slides two hands under Pavel’s shirt, tweaking Pavel’s nipples and running down Pavel’s chest. His hand slips into Pavel’s pants, and he palms Pavel’s cock, and he holds Pavel’s hips and licks Pavel’s neck. Pavel’s fingers tremble against the white walls of the turbolift. “Please, can I mowe my hands...?” Because Jim’s not touching his cock anymore and somebody has to. Jim hits the right spot every time, in and out and in and out.

Jim purrs, “Sorry, pet, but you’re mine right now...” And that means his to control. His to touch, his to _own_. Pavel understands. He leans his head to the side to give Jim more access to kiss him, his neck and the side of his face. Jim grabs and pulls his hair, and Jim pounds into his ass, hard and rough. The wet, slapping sounds echo off the walls and make everything louder and raunchier than they need to be. Pavel keens and leans into it, knees shaking.

Jim’s a good master. When his breath is too ragged and his hips are unstoppable and Pavel’s are jerking uncontrollably out of sheer need, he puts his hand over the front of Pavel’s pants. He squeezes through the material, stroking in time with the thrusts. He growls, “My cute little ensign...”

Pavel moans, voice high-pitched and cracking, “Yes, yes, _yours_.”

Jim comes in him with a fierce growl, grinding in hard and holding him tight. Pavel’s only a minute behind, wailing like a siren. Jim groans at the shocks it causes. Pavel’s ass is clenching tight. Jim’s spilling out. He fills Pavel up with hot, sticky cum, until Pavel’s too full to breathe and whimpering.

It comes to a head. Jim pulls out with a languid hiss, trailing the remains across Pavel’s burning cheeks. His pants are wet, but he’ll have a few minutes left of break, and he can go change.

Jim has a bridge to be on. He turns Pavel around and loops an arm around Pavel’s waist, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. Wrapped in ecstasy, Pavel sighs, “You are so good to me.”

“You’re so good to me and my ship and all my crew,” Jim laughs, because Pavel is never really _just his_. But everyone’s a part his, so he’s usually alright with that.

He tucks himself back into his pants and sets to work on the panel in the side, asking, “Could you bring me a scone from the mess hall when you get back?” Because Pavel isn’t a yeoman, but he is everything he can.

“Of course, Keptain, and I will hawe zhe course correction for New Wulcan by zhe end of my shift.”

“I forgot I asked for that.”

“I know.”

Chuckling, Jim fits the panel back on and takes the turbolift down for Pavel’s quarters, ruffling his hair and grinning like he couldn’t be prouder. That’s enough to make Pavel smile.


	2. Spock

Spock knew, of course, but never said anything. How could he have not seen the way they looked at Pavel, noticed the way they slipped out after him, heard the odd intonations in Jim’s voice? He never asked Pavel for what they had. Pavel suggested easing his stress, once, making him feel better. Spock has all the same things they do—power and importance and _a need to dominate_. He didn’t get what he needed, and Pavel always wants to help.

But he said no, it wouldn’t be right, you’re too young, it’d be unconscionable.

Then Jim said _yes_ , come with me, you’ll have fun, we’ll do it together.

And Pavel still shivers at the thought of them, the both of them, the way they closed in around him, pinning him in. They laid him down on the bed, careful and special. They rubbed him and made him feel good, kissed him all over and made him heady and desperate.

They held him down and took him, both of them at once, and Pavel’s hard from the memory alone. He turns, mildly ashamed. He lets his forehead press against the cool metal, and he humps the wall as subtly as possible. It’s all dark down this corridor, lights off for the gamma shift. There are flickering glows in the distance around the corner, just enough to not trip. He’s waiting, and he closes his eyes. Oh, when they held him, both their big cocks in him, thrusting into him, one in his mouth and one in his ass, the leaders of the entire Enterprise...

“Ensign,” Spock breathes, right over his shoulder, and Pavel nearly jumps out of his skin. If it were Jim, he wouldn’t be allowed to turn around, but Spock is never rough with Pavel. So Pavel turns slowly around. Spock’s always careful, respectful, like if he lets himself have even that one moment of recklessness, he’ll snap. Sometimes Pavel holds those thin, muscled arms and wonders what sort of Vulcan strength lies below...

Pavel breathes, “Hello, Commander.” He tries to act like he wasn’t just humping the wall. Hopefully it’s dark enough to cover his blush. Everyone knows he’s eager, but he shouldn’t be _that_ eager.

Sometimes he thinks Spock finds him amusing. Mostly not. Spock takes a step closer, backing Pavel back into the wall, and he says quietly, “I have sealed off the corridor.”

“Okay.” Not that Pavel would get in trouble anyway, and Spock’s worth showing off. But he understands Spock’s need for privacy, and he serves however he can.

He works into the routine without having to be asked—Spock doesn’t like asking. Spock isn’t full of obscenities and dirty innuendos like Jim is; he’s rigid and stiff, and if Pavel doesn’t know to give it, Spock won’t get it. So Pavel unzips Spock’s pants and slips inside, palm over the sleeping cock below, right away. No foreplay, no kisses. Pavel looks up at Spock, pouting. He leans up on his toes to kiss Spock, just a peck to get him warm.

Then he’s stroking carefully and watching, looking down. He pays attention to what he does. He uses both hands, and he brings them back to his mouth, coating each finger slowly. Popping each one in, getting them wet. He licks between them. He licks his palms. He sticks his hands back, and he wraps them around Spock’s dick, one holding the base and the other stroking. Spock’s a difficult case; he has to be done _right_.

Vulcans have a thing for hands. Pavel learned that quickly, and does his best, each twitch of the heavy cock like a moan into his skin. Spock’s very long, thick and more yellow-tinted, green veins running down the shaft. He doesn’t have balls like the rest of them, but Pavel likes that—more room to cup the base properly. Vulcan testicles are on the inside, and every once in awhile Pavel runs his fingers over the area beneath, pressing slightly. Sometimes it earns him slight hitches of breath, sometimes grunts, sometimes nothing. Pavel runs his pinky around the head, and then he flips his hand around so he can use his thumb properly.

Spock joins in later. It’s not a power play; it’s a necessity. Pavel’s younger and more eager and has less control; he’ll come too fast if Spock doesn’t wait. But Spock doesn’t forget him, and those hands love to touch as much as be touched. He has such long fingers, and when they slip into the front of Pavel’s pants, one hand covers everything. Spock’s _very_ good with his hands. He squeezes and adapts to Pavel’s pace, and he leans forward, chin over Pavel’s shoulder.

Pavel nuzzles his face into the side of Spock’s, feeling close, even if all their clothes are still on. This is close for Spock. Pavel knows he’s helping. He kisses the bottom of Spock’s pointed ear and purrs, “I will do anyzhing you need.”

Spock is silent at first, stroking Pavel leisurely and thickly all at once. He can stop pumping and still cover everything, thumb pressing into the slit and fingers massaging the shaft. He keeps massaging as he says, voice low and just a fraction husky, “You can reexamine our course to Tellar Prime; I believe we are taking an inordinate amount of time.”

Pavel almost laughs, because that’s so very _Spock_. But then he’s forced to moan instead, and he nods, putty in Spock’s hands. He’ll do anything he can for his superiors on the bridge, off the bridge, anywhere and everywhere he can. He wants to cling to Spock for support, but his hands are busy, so instead he just buries his face in Spock’s neck, getting close.

A few more strokes, and it’s all he can take. Pavel shivers and bites his lip so he doesn’t scream, coming in his pants again, Spock’s hands catching the brunt of it. Pavel keeps working Spock’s dick while Spock pulls his hand out and lifts it to Pavel face—he doesn’t like to leave a mess.

Pavel licks Spock’s hand clean, flattening his tongue and lingering too long. He traces each line and sucks on each digit, because he knows Spock likes that. He worships Spock’s hand like a puppy licking treats from his master, until Spock finally comes, with only the smallest of tremours.

Pavel licks his own hands off, and he gets to his knees, quickly cleaning Spock up with his mouth. Spock’s cum is sweeter than the others. Pavel tucks Spock lovingly back in, and he looks up, trying to ask if he did alright.

Spock pats his cheek and nods. “Thank you.”

Pavel grins.

Spock walks him back to his quarters.


	3. Leonard

Dr. McCoy always leered over him; it was just a matter of time.

Pavel’s called in for medical exams at inopportune and randomized times, much more so than anyone else. He doesn’t wait around for nurses to see him or place him—he strolls straight to the office at the end, stripping down. He takes everything off, facing the door in the hopes that he’ll stop anyone else coming in before they see him. The air’s kept pleasantly warm, and it’s made warmer by the blush all over his body. There’s a medical gown hanging on the wall. It’s a small, paper front, just enough to cover his chest, stomach, and the tops of his thighs. It stays on via little puff sleeves. They have proper gowns that cover the back, but Dr. McCoy wouldn’t like that.

Dr. McCoy is one of the hardest of the men to please, because he’s moody and grumpy more often than not, and if he had a difficult patient that day, Pavel will pay the price. He’s rougher than the others, and sometimes he doesn’t even fuck Pavel. Sometimes he’ll load Pavel up with drugs and treat him like a doll, other times he’ll tie Pavel up and sound Pavel’s cock. Mostly he _examines_ Pavel, and today he comes in just after Pavel’s sat down on the table.

Dr. McCoy locks the door and strolls forward, tugging Pavel to the edge of the table by his ankle. “What’s this I hear about problems with your prostate?” Dr. McCoy’s smirking today.

Pavel bites his lip, playing along instantly, and he hunches his shoulders like he’s too embarrassed to say. “My... my whole ass feels so _tired_ and _sore_ , Doctor... what can I do?”

“You can stop being so promiscuous,” Dr. McCoy scoffs, leaning closer, and he grabs Pavel’s chin and tilts Pavel’s head back. “You can’t batter that thing all the time and not expect to need more and more to get you off.”

Pouting, Pavel does his best to pretend this is terrible news. He is tired and sore a lot of the time, but it’s completely worth it. Dr. McCoy puts a thumb against his bottom lip, and Pavel opens obediently, jaw as wide as it’ll go. Dr. McCoy peers into his mouth and sticks a few fingers inside, flattening his tongue and pistoning lightly. Pavel’s obediently still, and he closes his mouth when Dr. McCoy pulls out again.

“Your throat’s been used too much,” Dr. McCoy decides. He shoves Pavel’s shoulders, and Pavel falls down onto the table, legs still over the edge. He lifts his hands up and to the side, because he knows how Dr. McCoy likes him, and he doesn’t want to be a difficult patient. Dr. McCoy pulls the bonds out from under the table, clasping the thick cuffs around each wrist, holding his hands up beside his head. “We’ll have to see about that pretty hole... I might have to give you some exercises and ointments to keep it nice and loose.”

“Loose?” Pavel asks faintly, because men are always telling him how tight he is, and he knows they all like that.

Dr. McCoy snorts. “If you’re going to be so shameless then you’re going to have to be loose, or I’m going to have to treat you every time you let someone fuck you. And trust me, I have better things to do.”

Pavel pouts again; he wants to be better things. He lets Dr. McCoy part his legs and slip his feet into the stirrups, cuffed around the ankles and pulled apart, pressed back to the bed. Pavel’s knees are bent in the air, making his paper gown fall back. He wants to cover his cock properly again, but trying only jerks on the bonds and makes him whimper.

There’s a minute of just Dr. McCoy watching him, adjusting bonds and changing his position slightly, getting him just right. Then Dr. McCoy’s out of his line of vision, and he has to bend his head up to see the table in the corner being sorted through. Dr. McCoy comes back with a lubed-up, scissor-like, metal tool, which leaves Pavel’s line of sight pretty quickly. It’s disappeared between his legs, and he can feel the cold, blunt edges pressing at his hole.

“Still nice and wet, I see, but have you been stretching yourself like a good boy?”

“I try,” Pavel says a little breathlessly. He’s bristling with anticipation. He always likes to be ready, and he’s full of sloppy seconds, but he’s never sure just _how_ ready he needs to be for the doctor. He feels two warm fingers rub around his entrance, and they massage him for a minute, gently tugging him open.

Pavel makes a keening noise. He can feel a little bit of cum leaking out of him, and Dr. McCoy doesn’t ask whose it is. Pavel’s not even sure. He took several of them at once, and he’s already lost track of who was in where. The Captain, maybe? But no, he was in Pavel’s mouth...

“No wonder your reactions are sluggish at best,” Dr. McCoy snickers. “It’s a wonder all your brain cells haven’t been fucked out of your skull.”

Pavel mumbles, “I am sorry, Doctor...” and he wriggles in place a bit. Dr. McCoy’s fingers keep prying him apart, holding him open, and the cold instrument, slick and strange, presses slowly into him. It’s curved like a tube, and it isn’t that big, but it’s unforgiving and uncomfortable. Pavel wills himself to relax, and he bites back his winces. It makes up for its thickness in length, and it takes an inordinate amount of time to get completely inside him.

Then Dr. McCoy groans, and his hand squeezes Pavel’s ass, fingers slipping underneath. Pavel whimpers and braces himself—he knows what’s coming.

The second the instrument starts prying him apart, it hurts. Just a dull ache at first, but Dr. McCoy is merciless, and he cranks the pliers wider and wider, until Pavel’s lower body is convulsing out of his control, and he’s panting like he’s running. Dr. McCoy puts a hand on his stomach to hold him down and keeps prying, muttering soothing things like, “Shh.” And finally it stops, leaving him wide gaping open.

Pavel’s fingers are curled against his palms. The white ceiling is getting blurry, and he stares at it while Dr. McCoy disappears between his legs, obviously looking around. One of Dr. McCoy’s long, calloused fingers pokes inside, rubbing around and making Pavel squirm, and Pavel gasps, “Is... is ewerzhing alright, Doctor?”

“Nothing I can’t fix,” Dr. McCoy answers. He shifts the pliers a little bit, and Pavel winces. Then Dr. McCoy’s gone to the table again, and when he comes back he’s holding a large, black dildo in his hands, up in the air for Pavel to see. “We’ll give it a bit of stimulation and see how it reacts. Understood, Ensign?”

“Y... yes, Doctor.” Pavel eyes flutter closed. The plastic tip is less cold than the metal holding him open, and it’s a little spongier, but it’s still very stiff. Dr. McCoy slips it in without much preparation, slow and pistoning. Pavel’s breath hitches, and he makes high-pitched whining sounds while it breaches him, further and further, until he’s sure it’d get lost in his ass if Dr. McCoy weren’t holding him open. Then there’s a beeping noise—something being typed on a PADD? And it starts to move.

Pavel moans instantly, head lolling to the side, back arching off the table. The dildo—no, vibrator—is on a very high setting, and it rams into him all on its own, hard and immediate and fast. Dr. McCoy angles it just right—it hits his prostate and starts battering it relentlessly. It makes Pavel’s lower body jerk and his hands clench, and he tries to clench his ass around it to squeeze it in more. Even held open and uncomfortable, it’s _very_ good. Pavel barely even registers Dr. McCoy heading over to the table.

Judging from the grunts and wet squelching noises that join the mechanical buzzing in the air, Dr. McCoy’s now touching himself. He’s looming behind Pavel, staring down with a wildly lecherous look on his face. Pavel _loves_ it. He wishes he could open himself even wider and show his doctor more, but he knows if there were anything else he could give, Dr. McCoy would take it.

Doctor McCoy pumps himself in time with the vibrator’s thrusts, and Pavel’s cock is ridiculously hard in no time, arching against his stomach. He can’t touch himself bound up like this, and Dr. McCoy doesn’t touch it, but Pavel doesn’t say anything just in case he gets tied. Dr. McCoy has a particular torturous collection of cockrings, and he has no problem putting Pavel through that. So Pavel just thrusts his hips in the air and lets himself bounce, whimpering and keening and letting himself get fucked by Dr. McCoy’s hard toy.

Even without any stimulation to his cock, it doesn’t take Pavel long to come. He shrieks when he does it, hips speeding up but vibrator the same, and he squeezes around the vibrator and lets it toss him over the edge. His cum spurts up over the paper gown, and one drop even hits Pavel’s face. The doctor always makes him come hard. He doesn’t have any room to come back down—the vibrator doesn’t slow.

But Dr. McCoy does take pity, and he does reach down and pull it out, tossing it to the counter. He walks around the table and pulls a lever, and the table falls back, tilting Pavel’s head down and his ass up in the air. The cum on Pavel’s gown starts to trickle towards his face, and he whimpers while Dr. McCoy pulls out the pliers.

Something less cold, circular and maybe plastic, slips into his hole. It takes Pavel a second to realize what it is: a funnel. Dr. McCoy’s still pumping himself, and he comes with a loud groan a minute later, spilling down into Pavel’s hole through the funnel. It’s a strange feeling, having it all pour into him like that, and Pavel’s chest is still rising and falling heavily. Dr. McCoy waits for it all to empty, and then he pulls the funnel out and replaces it with something more solid and larger, and that pops inside him, stopped by a flat plate around the outside. Pavel wriggles his ass: it’s a plug.

He waits a few more seconds, but Dr. McCoy’s just looking.

So Pavel relaxes, feeling spent and delicious, full and owned. Dr. McCoy eventually walks around the table and pets his head, chuckling, “You’re a good patient, Ensign.”

Pavel turns his face to try and kiss the doctor’s hand, but it leaves too soon.

“I have another patient to attend to, but I’ll be back to see if you’re good enough to release in a few minutes.” He has that smirk on his face again, the one that says it might be an hour.

Pavel’s still a good boy. He just says, “Zhank you, doctor,” and settles into his place.


	4. Montgomery

Mr. Scott was sweet about it. He’d give Pavel the lessons in engineering either way, but after a while it was hard for Pavel to see him suffer in silence with a crush Pavel could easily fulfill. One day Mr. Scott showed up drunk—a not particularly rare occurrence—and that shyness changed. He asked for what he wanted, and Pavel, already pleasing others and thankful for his lessons, could hardly turn his mentor down. 

And now he’s on his knees behind a stack of barrels in the corner, the usual bustle of engineering thick in the air around him. They’re basically in public. Lately, this happens all the time. Mr. Scott’s got his hand over his mouth to stifle his moans, and his other hand’s behind him against a waist-high barrel. His pants are pulled down to his knees, and Pavel’s worshipping his cock. 

Mr. Scott’s got a nice cock. It’s not as long as the others, but it’s very thick and it’s got a slight curve to it, and it always smells musky and masculine. Pavel particularly enjoys burying his face in it and inhaling, his lashes down and his bottom lip between his teeth, and Mr. Scott seems to like that. Mr. Scott seems to like everything. He’s a very gracious partner. He lets Pavel take his time and _enjoy_ himself. He licks all up and down the shaft and sucks on Mr. Scott’s heavy balls. Then he licks the underside and kisses the head with lots of tongue. When he sticks his tongue against the slit, Mr. Scott makes a keening noise. 

Mr. Scott bucks his hips forward, and Pavel jerks his head back to avoid being impaled. He moves back in after, stretching open his jaw. 

Blowjobs with all of his men are different. For example, Dr. McCoy will always force him to swallow, and Spock will let him spit. Spock is always stock still, never thrusting his hips into Pavel’s face. Mr. Scott doesn’t have any of that control. Or he just doesn’t bother with it. He humps Pavel’s mouth eagerly, sliding in before Pavel’s ready. It’s almost too thick to stuff down his throat, but Pavel’s had lots of practice and manages. He relaxes and he lets it go, and he doesn’t even have to move. 

Then it’s just a matter of sitting back and waiting. Mr. Scott’s free hand reaches to sweep through his curls, tugging them and brushing them back. Pavel has one hand on Mr. Scott’s thigh and the other lightly resting on his own crotch, massaging himself. Mr. Scott will probably jerk him off after. Mr. Scott is kind that way. 

The rest of the way he’s dirty or nasty, and he fucks Pavel’s mouth hard and without control. It’s sort of like Jim, without all the elegance of practice. Pavel relaxes his jaw and takes it. The back of his throat gets battered and it’s rubbing his tongue raw, but that’s alright. He likes the taste. He likes the way it feels, being full. He likes feeling used, and he likes feeling helpful. He likes the way Mr. Scott mutters accented obscenities into his hand, and the way there’s no rhythm to his hips. Pavel even likes the way Mr. Scott still answers his communicator mid-thrust.

He whips it out of his back pocket and pulls his hand away long enough to grunt, “Wha’?”

“Have you got my navigator down there?” It’s Jim’s voice. Pavel sucks hard, and Mr. Scott throws his head back, gritting his teeth to stifle a moan. It’s after Pavel’s shift and time for his usual training, but that’s no reason his captain can’t want him for other things. 

“Got ‘im right ‘ere, Captain.” Mr. Scott’s voice is shallow, and he’s talking slow and deliberately. Like he’s trying to be normal when he’s clearly not. Pavel wonders vaguely if Jim gets it.

Jim must, because he laughs. “Send him up when you’re done, Scotty.”

Mr. Scott says, “Aye, Sir,” and snaps the communicator closed. Under his breath, he mutters, “Something’s goin’ up.” And Pavel giggles around the cock in his mouth, which makes Mr. Scott moan again and nearly drop the communicator. 

He stuffs it in his back pocket, hips going hard again, and Pavel sets in to suck whenever he can. He does his best to use his mouth properly, just the way Mr. Scott likes it. It doesn’t take long. Mr. Scott grabs another chunk of hair when he comes, growling hard and bending forward, cock fully-seated and grinding into Pavel’s face. Mr. Scott’s pubic hair is pressed against Pavel’s nose, his balls against Pavel’s chin, his cock stuffed down Pavel’s throat. The cum bursts out and slips down, and Pavel chokes, but forces himself to take it, eyes watering. 

It takes a few seconds to finish, accompanied by a few weaker thrusts. Then Mr. Scott pulls out, panting and flushed, and he mutters, “Sorry, lad.”

Pavel coughs a bit and wipes at the spit trailing out of his mouth, muttering, “Any time, Meester Scott.” 

His smile says he means it. 

Mr. Scott chuckles and helps Pavel up, reaching into his pants with gratitude.


	5. Hikaru

Hikaru...

Pavel _lives_ for Hikaru.

Pavel always had him, from the moment they first ended up across that console, sneaking stolen glances and little excuses to touch the middle, to touch each other. They got allocated quarters to share with two beds not far enough apart to prevent the inevitable. They share the same shift, they get off at the same time, they take lunches together and the play games together, they watch old movies together and they laugh together all the time.

But they’re in the century of love and peace, and there is no reason not to share. Pavel’s said time and time again that when Hikaru’s ready, when they’re older and they want to settle down and commitment’s a must for him, it’ll just be _Hikaru_. For now he’s Hikaru’s every night, except for the rare occasion he’s held captive in another’s bed. Tonight he’s tired, sweaty and used, and he saunters back into their quarters half exhausted and excited all at once.

Hikaru’s sitting up in bed, reading something on a PADD. Pavel chooses Hikaru’s bed to lie on, and he falls face first into the white covers. Hikaru reaches over and pets his hair, crooning, “Big day, baby?”

“Big men,” Pavel whines. He turns his head sideways so he can smile up at Hikaru. The lights are only half on, but Hikaru’s smile is bright enough for Pavel to see it no matter what the lights are set at.

Hikaru chuckles, “I can’t help you there.”

Pavel giggles. “I guess not.” Hikaru’s no small fish, and Pavel reaches out between the bumps of his legs under the blanket. Hikaru takes Pavel’s hand and helps it find his crotch, palming it through the thick material. “Are you too tired for me?”

“Am _I_ too tired?” Hikaru raises his eyebrows. “You’re the one that’s been gone all night, you little scamp.”

Pavel sticks out his tongue. “I am an _ensign._ I hawe to serwe my crew.”

“Oh, I forgot. My sweet little philanthropist...” He strokes under Pavel’s chin like a dog, and Pavel makes a keening noise and leans into it. Hikaru always knows just where to touch him. His legs kick idly up in the air while he sighs.

“You are in bed, zhough...”

“It’s just the comfiest place to sit, especially after what you did to the couch.”

“I didn’t do it alone.”

“Are you just going to be a tease and massage me like that, or are you actually going to come over here and do something about it?”

Smiling leisurely, Pavel rolls onto his back, his hand slipping away. He puts his arms up in the air, whining, “Carry me, Hikaru!”

“You’re such a brat.” But Hikaru’s smiling too, and he puts his PADD on the white nightstand and slips off the mattress. Pavel was half kidding. Hikaru scoops him up anyway, with an arm under his legs and an arm under his back. Pavel squeaks in pleasure and throws his arms around Hikaru’s neck.

He nuzzles into Hikaru’s shoulder and purrs, “I am sleepy, zhough—you will treat me right?”

Hikaru scoffs. “Have I ever treated you wrong?”

“No, you are wonderful.” Pavel leans up and puckers, making Hikaru come down the rest of the way to kiss him. Awkwardly and with one already occupied hand, Hikaru peels the blankets back, depositing Pavel right onto the mattress, head in the pillows. When Hikaru lets go, Pavel decides to stop being so lazy, and he tugs off his own shoes, tossing them to the floor. Hikaru takes off his shoes too, and then peels his shirt over his head. Pavel stops stripping just to watch—Hikaru’s his absolute favourite to look at.

Hikaru’s his absolute favourite everything, and that’s probably got something to do with it. Hikaru’s skin is pale, his chest is toned, he’s got strong arms, but he’s not overly muscular, still fairly thin and small like Pavel likes. Or at least, not so much bigger than Pavel like Spock or Dr. McCoy are. He’s the perfect fit. He climbs on top of Pavel like he was built to be there, and he helps tug Pavel’s shirt off his body and pants and underwear off his legs. Hikaru’s already out of underwear, and his semi-hard cock bobs happily in the air, long and tantalizing, just begging Pavel to touch it.

Pavel reaches down to give it a fond tug, and Hikaru mewls and kisses his cheek, making Pavel giggle. In perfect response to Pavel’s state, Hikaru purrs as he grinds into Pavel’s body, “You want it nice and slow, baby?”

Pavel grabs Hikaru’s ass so he can line them up, pressing their foreheads together. His lashes are closed, and he can feel Hikaru’s warm breath ghosting across his lips. He sighs, “I want you to make lowe to me, Hikaru.”

He can feel Hikaru shiver in his arms, and he’s kissed rapidly all over the side of his face. It makes him giggle and cling to Hikaru’s broad shoulders, running one hand through Hikaru’s silky black hair. Hikaru’s legs nestle between his, and he parts his as wide as he can to help, wrapping them around Hikaru’s waist. Hikaru reaches back for the blanket, and he tugs it up and over them, heating Pavel up in an instant.

That’s okay. Pavel likes it hot and steamy. He’s already giddy. He always is when he’s in Hikaru’s arms. They kiss leisurely while Hikaru reaches to finger him, even though he’s always, always ready for his man. He clenches around Hikaru’s finger as soon as it’s in, trying to hold a bit of Hikaru in him. Hikaru’s tongue runs along his teeth and over the walls of his mouth, and as Pavel gasps in delight, a second finger pops inside, spreading the lube already there.

Breaking their kiss just long enough to say it, Hikaru whispers, “How’re you still so _tight_?”

“I clench myself when I am at zhe helm, whenewer I look ower at you and zhink about wanting to please you, keeping your big cock trapped in my little body...”

Hikaru groans and hisses, “You’re _perfect_.” He attaches his mouth to Pavel’s neck like a storybook vampire.

Pavel moans, “Take me, take me.”

Hikaru’s a merciful lover. He takes his fingers out and lines up his cock, rubbing at Pavel’s greedy hole. Pavel, thumbing Hikaru’s cheek and holding his hair, pushes his face up, so they can look right at each other. Hikaru slams inside, and Pavel gasps, but keeps their eyes locked together, no matter how heavy his lashes grow or how much his pupils threaten to devour his irises. He presses his ass up into Hikaru’s hard dick, encouraging it to go as deep as possible. He never takes anything less than _all_ of Hikaru. He swallows it up like he was made to be on it. Hikaru’s nearly shuddering with pleasure, and Pavel’s hips try to spasm beyond his control.

Pleasure, pleasure. Hikaru rubs the right spot, and mainly it’s just because it’s Hikaru that Pavel’s rippled with pleasure. He mewls and he keens and he pleads as Hikaru rocks slowly into him, almost all the way out and all the way in. It’s absolutely divine. Hikaru hits the perfect angle on every thrust. Hikaru strokes his sides and finds his cock, pumping it gently, a little slick with sweat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hikaru pants. Now that they’ve locked eyes, neither can look away. Hikaru’s arched over him, held up with sheer strength and willpower, until he slides his elbow up beside Pavel’s head to help. “Love you so much, baby.”

“Love you, too,” Pavel says with all the sincerity he has. “I do, I do.” Grinning, Hikaru kisses him, and that’s the end of their eye contact. They’re back to exploring even millimeter of each other’s mouths, lazily opening and closing their lips and licking each other’s tongues.

Pavel’s mind is blissfully blank while Hikaru makes love to him, his body shivering with joy every time Hikaru strums his cock. He feels like his body’s an instrument that Hikaru plays like a true artist, or a pastry that Chef Hikaru stuffs so full of sugar that it’s almost too sweet to eat. He keeps one hand in Hikaru’s hair, because Hikaru has such wonderfully silky-smooth hair, and the other he lets run slowly all over Hikaru’s body, mapping what he already knows.

He can last longer with Hikaru than with anyone. Not because Hikaru makes him feel any less good—Hikaru makes him feel like ecstasy itself—but because when Hikaru takes him, it’s just the two of them, all alone in their own little universe, with nothing to distract or pull them out. Hikaru lavishes him with love and kindness, and Pavel does everything he can to return the favour. When he feels his orgasm coming, he wishes he could stop it.

But he couldn’t stop this if he tried. Hikaru comes first, burying his head in Pavel’s shoulder and moaning happily, spilling out inside Pavel’s body. Pavel comes nearly a second later, and Hikaru’s fingers pump it out, massaging all the right places. He comes just as much as Hikaru does, painting both their bellies.

Hikaru lies down on top of him, and even though it’s hard to breathe, Pavel doesn’t let him go.

Pavel warps his arms around Hikaru’s body and rolls them over onto both their sides, cuddling up into the burning warmth.

There aren’t any words, because it’s not needed. They lie there and wait for their pulses to go down, their heads to come back down, breathing to become simple again. The blankets have fallen with them, a little tangled in their legs.

Then Hikaru whispers, “I’m happy it’s my bed you stay in.”

“I am happy you let me stay in it.” Pavel glows.

Hikaru chuckles, “You say that like I have any option.”

“You could always send me away.”

“Now how in the universe would I ever manage that?”

Pavel raises his eyebrow and playfully notes, “I am a bit promiscuous.”

“Yes, but you’re _my_ promiscuous Pavel,” Hikaru clarifies.

Pavel giggles. “I am? I did not realize.”

“Yup.” Hikaru nods. “All mine.”

He leans in for another kiss, and Pavel knocks him onto his back with the force of a hug.


End file.
